


local man ruins everything

by Anonymous



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Cheryl and Jason are evil sociopaths, F/M, Polly is hopelessly naive and trusting, Season/Series 01, as proclaimed by me, it's season 1 throwback day, sorry about that title lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 03:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15282387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jason Blossom and Polly Cooper were in love. A forbidden, doomed love. They planned to elope and raise their children somewhere far, far away, where the longest of Riverdale's shadows could never reach. It ended in tragedy.That's all nonsense, of course, but only Cheryl Blossom knows the truth, and she's not telling.OrHow Cliff Blossom's evil plan accidentally foiled his children's evil plan





	local man ruins everything

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea while re-watching season 1
> 
> With apologies to Cheryl and Jason, who are absolutely despicable in every way in this fic. They're my favs and I don't usually headcanon as sociopathic, borgia-esque monsters. 
> 
> Also, with thanks to village-skeptic for beta reading this, and for letting me (unintentionally, in my defense) rip off her wonderful fic 'the way you've been rambling you'll lead me astray'

Cheryl’s father was dead, and she wept.

Not because Clifford was dead, of course. Oh, no. Her only regret _there_ was that she hadn’t been able to kill the old bastard herself. Cheryl would cherish forever the image of his dangling in the barn, feet twitching wonderfully, lips going a cold blue. Delightful.

She just wished he had died before he had _ruined everything._

He had spent her entire life _ruining everything_. And now he’d done it again.

Her brother, her handsome, brilliant, loving Jason was dead, thanks to their scheming rat of a father, and everything was ruined.

It was supposed to be different. They were supposed to have a happy ending.

 

Cheryl hated Polly Cooper. She’d hated her when they were seven and Polly ratted her out to Ms. Blankenship for writing ‘loser’ on Ethel Muggs’ lunch box, and she hated her now.

Polly and the entire neurotic, plastic, simpering Cooper family made her sick—which is why she was so thrilled when Jason _finally_ announced he was going to leave her.

“ _Please_ do it in public,” Cheryl begged. “I want to see—and film—if she goes full Ophelia.”

Jason wasn't enthusiastic about _that_ idea. It was all about public relations. Because then the whole town would be treated to the sight of sweet, blonde Polly Cooper having her heart torn out, and _he_ would look like the bad guy. But as long as she was gone and Cheryl didn’t have to look at her face outside of school, she cared little how Jason got rid of Polly.

Cheryl never liked any of her brother’s girlfriends, of course. No matter how often Jason kissed her sweetly and nibbled her bottom lip and assured her that it was just to keep up appearances and that he would _never_ love anyone else the way he loved her, she still hated it. But Polly in particular caused her much grief. Jason always told her that the other girls were just a bit of fun, and in keeping with that, he rarely entertained them for more than a few weeks. But he’d been with Polly for nearly three months, and Cheryl was beginning to worry. The end of this little fling was a great relief.

 

A few days later, Jason told his sister if she _really_ wanted to see the fireworks, she should come down to Pop’s Diner at 8:00 PM sharp on Friday.  Cheryl rounded up Tina and Ginger, occupied their favorite booth, ordered a chocolate sundae, and waited.

Sure enough, ten minutes later the doorbell clanged, and in strolled Polly and Jason. Cheryl forgot her sundae and snapped to attention. Jason pretended not to notice his sister and her friends. He led his girlfriend in by the hand and launched into his well-prepared little speech. He started with a bit of inane small talk, they ordered milkshakes, and then he broke the news. He just didn't think this was going to work out long term. He was sorry, but he wanted to do what was best for her _and_ him. Polly's lip trembled and her big blue eyes watered. Cheryl struggled to keep a straight face. She suppressed a maniacal grin while the blonde sniffled and asked if she’d done anything wrong. Jason said _no, of course not; it was him, not her._

To Cheryl's disappointment, Polly didn't take it quite as poorly as she'd hoped. There was no wailing or outright begging. She cried, sobbed a little, but in the end maintained her composure and left the diner, still sniffling.

When she had gone, Cheryl jumped up, congratulated her brother and exulted: "That was _sublime_! I could have done with a few more tears, but..."

The twins went home that night, locked themselves away in Jason's room, popped a bottle of Penelope’s full-bodied Rhenish wine, and celebrated.

“B-but Jason,” Cheryl mock-sobbed in what was actually not an awful impression of Polly Cooper. “I—I don’t—did I do something wrong?”

Jason doubled over with laughter.

Cheryl downed her glass of wine and tittered with delight.

The next few weeks were good. Jason didn’t so much as look at another girl. He even blew off one of those parties where, in Reggie’s words, ‘there’s gonna be all these drunk college chicks’, to spend the night with his sister. Cheryl dared to hope that he’d gotten it all out of his system, and would at last devote himself to _her_ and her _alone_ . She did _not_ like to play second fiddle. Especially not to girls like Polly. And with a bit of luck, she would never have to do so again.

Polly moped around the halls for a few days, and Cheryl delighted with tormenting her at Vixens practice: "Just because you can't keep a boyfriend, doesn't mean you can't keep in step! Or maybe it’s all the comfort eating? Now shape up or ship out, Cooper!"

Then things fell apart.

Because Polly was pregnant. _Pregnant_. That girl was a goddamned problem factory.

When Jason broke the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad news to her, Cheryl snarled like a wild animal.

Her first thought was that this was all a ploy on Polly’s part. Maybe Alice had even put her up to it.

“She’s lying!” Cheryl hissed. “She’s lost her fucking mind because you broke up with her, and now she's trying to—"

She wasn’t lying, Jason assured her. He knew it for a fact. He’d seen the test, and she was showing all the signs of early pregnancy. Anyway, Polly would never lie about something like this.

Cheryl resisted the urge to claw her stupid brother’s eyes out. How could he be so _foolish_ ? How could he let this _happen?_

“Did you skip ninth Grade sex ed, you idiot? Don’t you know how to put on a condom? Except—you _definitely_ do! So what the hell happened?"

Jason rolled his eyes, and let her rant herself out. He assured her that they could ‘fix this’.

"Make her get rid of it!" Cheryl demanded.

Didn't she think he'd tried? Of course he had. Polly wouldn't budge. She was out of her mind, he said. Polly was insane like everyone else in that horrid little family. And if he just tried to ignore her? It wouldn't be long before Alice Cooper and her husband were battering down the gates of Thornhill demanding Jason 'take responsibility for the child’, and probably pay through the nose for it, too. An opportunity to bleed the Blossom family for a couple thousand? Alice would be over the moon. Yes, this needed to be nipped in the bud. And _soon_.

“Then how, Jason? How are we going to ‘fix this’? In two weeks this Juno-wannabe is going to be leaving _baby shower invitations_ in everyone’s locker!" He tried to speak. She cut him off again. "You know what? _I’m_ going to fix this. Like always!”

He seemed relieved, truth be told.

Cheryl had always been the better planner of the two. She was more meticulous, more organized, and more ruthless. They were like Macbeth and his queen, she fancied. Jason was smart and capable enough, but he often needed her prodding and direction.

So she set about 'fixing things'. She acted mad, but it was fun. Cheryl liked plotting. It was a good mental workout and there was nothing quite as delicious as watching a well-laid plan fall into place. Especially when the end was the destruction of someone she hated as much as Polly.

Jason nodded along, smiling, as she laid it out to him.

“Tell her you’re going to run away together, right? Make it out like it’s some big secret—an epic romance. Romeo and Juliet nonsense. She’ll eat it right up.”

And where should they be planning to ‘run away to’, Jason wanted to know.

“Tell her you’re going to run off to a farm or something,” Cheryl grinned.

That bit was actually a joke. She didn’t think Polly was quite _that_ gullible.

But, no, Jason assured her. She absolutely was. If he told her they were going to fly away to Neverland, she would believe him.

So a non-existent farm upstate it was.

Then Jason asked what they would do with the body.

That was the beauty of it, Cheryl gushed. They wouldn’t have to do _anything_ . Once they’d gotten the Serpents involved—even tangentially—all suspicion would naturally fall on them. Sheriff Keller would turn the Southside upside down to figure out which reptilian degenerate had killed poor, innocent Polly Cooper. The Blossom twins would never even come up. The Coopers might be suspicious, but they blamed the Blossoms for _everything_. No one would take them too seriously, least of all the police.

When she was finished sketching it all out, Jason gripped her by the shoulders, pulled her into a kiss, and told her she was a ‘fucking evil genius’. Cheryl beamed.

He invited Polly over to Thornhill, made a show of ‘sneaking her in’, and Cheryl listened through the door while he told his girlfriend the story they had prepared together.

The babies changed everything, Jason said. Of _course_ they were back together.

Cheryl grinned wickedly. She loved hearing her words come out of his mouth.

Polly left the mansion practically glowing, having bought everything hook, line, and sinker. Of course she had. She was stupid.

Jason asked when they should do it.

Cheryl gave it a bit of thought and decided July 4th was as good a day as any. She always had a flair for the dramatic.

Jason called Polly to ‘let her know’.

Cheryl listened in, as Jason spoke into the phone about ‘their plan’, in an exaggerated whisper.

“Does…does Cheryl know anything?” Polly asked.

Of course not, Jason assured her. This was _their_ plan. Cheryl put a hand over her mouth to keep from cackling.

“I honestly cannot believe she bought that stupid fucking farm story,” Cheryl told her brother afterwards, giggling mightily. “Not that I’ve ever suspected her of genius but…what does she think this is, _Anne of Green Gables_?”

He laughed, shook his head, and agreed that, yes, Polly was not the brightest bulb in the box. And thank God for that.

Cheryl was quite proud of her plan. Because, really, it was one plan wrapped in another. The first layer was tailored to look like something a teenage boy and his girlfriend planning to elope would come up with. It was a little sloppy. There were some loose ends. The real plan, hidden beneath, was theirs, and theirs alone.

 

On the morning of July 4th, the twins went for a boat ride, because it was so nice out. And maybe, they thought, it would calm their nerves and help psych them up.

“Are you scared, Jason?” she asked.

He shook his head, ‘no’. Blossoms were never afraid.

When they reached the other side of the river, they heard a gunshot. She saw it as a teaching moment.

“You see, Jason? I told you how loud a gun would be.”

Cheryl gave her brother a little pep talk.

“Don’t forget to keep your gloves on at all times.” She handed Jason the knife, swiped from their father’s sportsman’s arsenal. It was the sort he used to gut and skin deer. Jason slid it into his belt. “And make sure she’s dead!” Cheryl said firmly. “Because the last thing we need is her crawling back to town splattered in blood on some _Revenant_ -esque revenge quest. Cut deep.” Cheryl took two of her brother’s fingers and pressed them to her jugular. She let him feel the pulse of her heartbeat and the blood coursing beneath her skin. “Right here, remember? _Deep_.”

Jason nodded. They shared a quick kiss, and then he was gone.

Cheryl sat cross-legged, under a tree a tree, opened her phone, and scrolled through Twitter while she counted down the minutes. He had two hours.

If all went well, Polly would arrive at the stashed car all packed and happy and ready to run away and start their new life. Then Jason would cut her throat, and _not_ get his fingerprints all over everything.

Cheryl hoped Jason had the stomach for it. The idea had initially made him a little squeamish, hence his suggestion they borrow one of Clifford’s hunting rifles.  Although she’d told him that a gun would be too loud, the truth was Cheryl didn’t think Polly _deserved_ to be shot. She thought Polly deserved to have her throat slashed. She would have been glad to do it herself, except that they wanted to keep Polly comfortable and complacent as long as possible. If she showed up to the ‘getaway car’ and _Cheryl_ was there, that was bound to set off alarm bells even in her cognitively unremarkable little head.

Assuming Jason could screw his courage to the sticking place, it shouldn't take too long for him to finish up. Then Cheryl would join him. They’d stick Polly in the driver’s seat, wipe down the car just to be sure, and abscond.

When Keller or his boys found Polly Cooper’s corpse slumped over in an old station wagon filled with narcotics off I-95, it would be obvious to all of Riverdale that she’d gotten mixed up with the Serpents and paid the price. It happened sometimes. Clean-cut Northside kids made the wrong friends and ended up hurt or worse. No wonder, people would say. Polly had been acting so strange lately, talking about farms and baby names and God-knew-what-else. Maybe she’d cut some kind of deal with somebody at the Whyte Wyrm, tried to back out, and suffered the consequences.  It was a shame, that poor girl.

The Serpents would never snitch. Even if one or two did, all they knew was what Jason told them when he bought the car and agreed to move some product: that he needed it to run off with his pregnant girlfriend. If that happened, then Jason would just admit to the cops: yes, he and Polly _had_ planned to run off, with help from the Serpents, but there had been trouble, and now Polly was dead. He hadn’t come forward before, because he was afraid of sharing her fate. Maybe he’d get a slap on the wrist. They wouldn’t dig any deeper.

And that was the worst case scenario.

No one but Cheryl and Jason Blossom knew the truth.

Probably some Southside scumbag would go to jail for it, or maybe no one would. Cheryl didn't really care.

Soon all of this _Polly Cooper, babies_ nonsense would be a distant, awful memory. That was all that mattered.

Cheryl waited. When the two hours were up, she made her way to the car, only to find neither her brother nor Polly, nor Polly’s corpse. The station wagon sat, alone, shielded from view in the brush, beneath the crumbling 'Blossom Maple Farms' sign. Untouched. No one had been here today.  

She waited. And waited some more. And neither showed. Then she began to worry. Something had gone wrong. _Terribly_.

Four hours from nightfall, Cheryl panicked. She rushed back to the river, tipped the canoe, leapt into the current, and crawled back out onto the rocks, soaking wet. As dusk came, Dilton Doiley and his scouts found her.

She made up a story about Jason drowning to stall for time, while she tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Where _was_ he? And where was Polly, for that matter? They had both been wiped off the face of the earth. Cheryl was spiraling. Everything had been thrown into disarray, and she was utterly in the dark.

 

Of course, later she would find out what had gone wrong. Polly had never made it because Alice Cooper had bundled her off to a nunnery that very morning like it was fucking 1625. And her brother—and she still could not think of it without crying—had not made it because their father had shot him in the goddamned head.

So now Jason was dead, and Polly was alive. And just thinking of that drove Cheryl into a rage so black she could hardly see straight.

 _Polly's_ corpse should be sitting on a slab somewhere, not Jason's. _Polly_ should be rotting in the earth, not Jason.

Polly. Polly. _Polly_.

Cheryl could hardly say or hear the name without making herself sick with fury. Her father may have ruined everything in the end, but this whole mess was _Polly's_ fault to begin with. None of this would _ever_ have happened if Polly hadn’t come along with her stupid little domestic fantasy. She'd never thought she could hate anything or anyone as much as she hated Polly.

Cheryl’s only comfort—and it was a cold one—was that she alone knew the truth. There was a certain satisfaction in watching Riverdale live a lie _she’d_ spun. Whenever Polly clutched her newborn twins—twins she didn’t deserve—to her chest and rhapsodized over how much she missed her lost love, Cheryl could sneer inwardly: _he_ **_never_ ** _loved you_.

Whenever Archie and the rest of Mystery Inc. spoke of having ‘solved the mystery’ of her brother’s death, she could laugh because they knew _nothing_ and they never would.

 

Stripped of everything else, at least Cheryl Blossom still had her secrets.

**Author's Note:**

> Interestingly enough, this is probably the most canon compliant thing I've ever written.


End file.
